Shabbos Schmooze for Parshas Noach: When G-d Lets the Storm Rage

*In honor of this week's Torah portion, Parshas Noach, I dedicate my post to a dear friend who celebrates her Jewish birthday during this parsha. I wish a yom huledet sameach, a happy birthday to Aviva bas Ruth!
Most of us have some familiarity with the story of Noach (English: Noah). In a world overtaken by violence and corruption, G-d decides it's time for some serious housekeeping. He warns the one righteous man, Noach that a massive deluge is on its way and will wipe out all life on earth. G-d gives Noach some hardcore blueprints (and perhaps a building permit?) along with the instruction to build a teivah (ark) such that Noach can assist in preserving his own family and a selection of male and female members from each animal species. 

Because I cannot read through Parshas Noach without at least one goofy cartoon!

The rains fall for 40 days and 40 nights. For 150 days after that, the waters still violently churn. Only after that does the storm finally begin to calm and recede. Once the teivah settles on the land of Mount Ararat, Noach sends out a raven, followed by a group of doves to scope out the situation. It is a whole year before the ground is completely dry and G-d commands Noach to leave the teivah and repopulate the earth. In gratitude, Noach builds an altar and offers sacrifices to G-d; G-d sends a rainbow as a sign of His new covenant with man. To this day, we say a special blessing any time we see a rainbow outside as we are reminded of this promise and G-d's great compassion.

There is so much one can take from this parsha. Water in and of itself represents a power that cannot be matched. This substance that can cause such irreversible destruction is the very same substance that ensures our survival. We are composed of and dependent on the very same material that could so swiftly and easily bring our demise. How true this is for so many factors we face in this world. And generations upon generations later, are we truly so far from that violence and corruption? It can feel, for lack of a better phrase, as though we are pulled down by the undertow much of the time. We live in a world where we must constantly and consistently decide whether to sink or swim.

Every year we read through this parsha, and each year, I swim away with something new. In the past, I've thought a lot about the idea of second (or third, fourth, 5,678,291st chances), and that is still a meaningful aspect of this parsha for me. However, something new floated to the surface for me this time around: the idea of comfort. I remembered a passage I'd once read that for the life of me I could never accurately cite so I shall paraphrase: 

There are times that G-d calms the storm. There are also times, however, that G-d lets the storm rage but calms the frightened child.

Our lives are not composed solely of sunny beaches and smooth sailing. There are dreary days, rain clouds and sometimes, even massive storms. There are times we raise our hands to the sky in the most sincere and raw stages of pain and we ask , we demand to know why.  Why do we hurt? Why do we suffer? Why is it  simply so hard?

And do you know what? We hurt, suffer and struggle because it's supposed to be hard sometimes. No one ever promised us a life of ease and at the very same time G-d would never give a person a struggle she/he cannot overcome. We don't have the answers. We don't know the reasons. We don't always experience life with ease, but we do have comfort and in that--through the good, the bad, and the ugly, we have meaning. We have a unique and individual relationship to G-d. And He renews and restores His promise to us with each passing second. The Torah is not just a set of stories and occurrences that happened generations upon generations ago. It is the essence of G-d's creation that He so lovingly and compassionately recreates and infuses with Life again and again in every moment.

And we have one more thing: choice. We can choose the blessing or the curse. We can choose to sink or swim. We can choose to feel defeated and overcome or we can choose to throw our hands up in the air, to release this burden of needing to be in control of all things all of the time and to let go. Let G-d. And know, that whatever type of storm we may be experiencing--be it a sprinkle, a sun shower or perhaps a typhoon, that this too shall pass.

At times even the strongest swimmer gets approached by an ominous looking wave. Perhaps it's an illness. Maybe it's a difficult decision or task. It might be a pain that is emotional, physical or spiritual. Whatever your wave is made of, the most important thing is to keep moving. Only when we are stagnant can we be overcome. We may be moving forward, we may need to move back a bit and sometimes we may just tread water. Occasionally, we might even need to build an ark. We must do the work to get there, but we have all the tools and instructions we need to do so. When the storm passes and waters recede, we can rest and breathe in the calm. Only then can we truly remember what it feels like to be held and carried. Only through our discomfort can we truly understand what it feels like to be comforted.

I find myself contemplating this image and am so filled with gratitude for the abundance of comfort I've been privileged to experience in my life. I've seen days of smooth sailing, moments of just floating along, some major upheavals and everything in between. Through it all, I've learned to experience comfort. It is a gift I would not trade for all of the sunny beach days in the world. And with that, I recall the final portion of a poem called First Lesson by Philip Booth:

...believe me, when you tire on the long thrash
to your island, lie up, and survive.
As you float now, where I held you
and let go, remember when fear
cramps your heart what I told you:
lie gently and wide to the light-year
stars, lie back, and the sea will hold you. 

Wishing friends and family near and far a Shabbat Shalom and all of the comforts you seek.